


Never Kissed a Boy

by purloinedinpetrograd



Category: Dark Shadows (2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purloinedinpetrograd/pseuds/purloinedinpetrograd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting in her cell, Maggie Evans suddenly realized that she had never kissed a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Kissed a Boy

There was a time, when Victoria Winters was still Maggie Evans, when she would sit alone on the floor, eyes straining in the dim, gray light of her cell (her room, they told her, but a room was supposed to be bright and warm and comforting and this was none of those things; this was the opposite), hands tracing under the words of a page creased with ear-marks, losing herself in the world of someone else’s adventure. She knew the words well, could put the book away now and finish reciting the rest of the page, she had read it so many times and knew it so well. It wasn’t that she had any particular fondness for this particular book, she just had a particular fondness for reading in general, but she was never allowed to do very much of it. The books she read had to be approved before she could lay her hands on them; had to make sure they weren’t in danger of inciting her already overactive imagination. 

(This was particularly amusing to Maggie, in the bitter sort of way that didn’t really feel very amusing at all, because she didn’t actually have a very active imagination. She would be later vindicated on this front when she based her new name in the most literal way possible on the first poster she saw when she realized it was needed.)

As such, most of the stories Maggie was allowed to read were the kind that dealt with a sort of highly dramatized version of normal life for a teenage girl; but Maggie had no real way of knowing this, because the world she read in her books was as foreign to her as any Tolkien fantasy might be. She had never been allowed to live a normal life - to navigate the halls of high school, trying to make friends, get on the cheerleading team, win the heart of the star of team; so to her, reading about this life allowed her a sense of escapism that her care takers would be displeased to know she felt.

It also helped to have something else to focus on besides her, sometimes. She was there more often than not these days, sitting in the corner, hair floating around her as if gravity did not affect her (which, Maggie knew, it didn’t), tattered dress floating out around her, wide eyes gazing at her, silent, always silent.

But Maggie did not always mind her presence, couldn’t, because she was still her friend, her only friend, the one that had been there since she was a little girl making up stories about her stuffed animals. And she was grateful for it. While there was a brief period of time - about a year after she arrived at Windcliffe - where she desperately wanted her to be gone, to be normal so she could go back to living a normal life at home with her parents and room that was bright and warm and comforting - it soon became apparent to Maggie that she was never going to be able to leave, whether she was there or not. So the one thing she had desperately hoped for became the one thing she feared more than anything - that one day, she would wake up and she wouldn’t be sitting there in her corner and then Maggie really would be alone, for good.

She was getting to her favorite part; the part where Roxy found out she made the cheerleading team and Dirk, the dashing but withdrawn star of the football team that she has loved from afar for years, asks her to prom. Maggie mouthed the words as she read them, lips curling up ever so slightly in the smile that rarely graced her lips, that rarely had a reason to be there at all. Maggie didn’t bother reading past that part this time; she just let the book fall closed, staring at it for a moment before glancing up. She was still there, watching her, because she was always watching her.

“I’ve never kissed a boy,” Maggie suddenly realized, the words coming out of her mouth at the same time they crossed her mind. She didn’t say anything in return - Maggie wasn’t expecting it - but she could swear something changed: she tilted her head slightly to the side, narrowing her eyes the tiniest fraction, as if evaluating something. Evaluating Maggie. There was something in her eyes, something Maggie couldn’t place but she felt strangely like she should have a name for. Suddenly, she felt awkward, and her face flushed and she looked down at her book again before laughter started bubbling in her throat because, of course, here she was admitting to her imaginary friend (because that’s all she is, they told her, just your imagination) that she had never kissed a boy.

And she was feeling embarrassed about it.

When Maggie looked back up, she was gone, and she felt just how alone she was stronger than she had in days, weeks, years.

When she wasn’t Maggie anymore - when she was Victoria Winters - she still hadn’t kissed a boy. And she was in love. Maybe.

She hadn’t even talked to him much, didn’t know much about him - he was always asking questions about her and dodging the same about himself - and Vicki had nothing to compare what she was feeling against, but the way she seemed to get needlessly giddy around him and the way she thought about him even when she shouldn’t, when she was trying to teach David or going over lesson plans with Elizabeth - all felt like it should be love. She thought of Roxy, and how she had described it as feeling like her stomach was doing somersaults when she was around Dirk, but that didn’t really suit her situation too well. Her stomach felt fine when she was with him; in fact, everything felt fine when she was him. The world was just… fine.

Sometimes, at night when she couldn’t sleep, she let her mind linger on Barnabas Collins; on things she was longing for but never had before, of his long fingers tracing over her body as his voice, smooth and hypnotizing, spoke to her of things that couldn’t be said much above of whisper, of his breath against her cheek.

On one particular night, as she lay in bed restless and mind full of Barnabas Collins and exploring these feelings that she wasn’t sure what to do with, she came to her, eyes staring at her from the foot of her bed. Vicki started, face burning as she sat upright, suddenly filled with rage at the specter for appearing now, for appearing at all. She had seen so much less of her lately, though now she talked to her sometimes - always short of infuriatingly cryptic and oh, how Vicki hated when she said help me because how was she supposed to do that? - and Vicki was back to hoping she wouldn’t ever show up again at all, because now she was finally in grasp of normal.

She waited, waited for her to say something, to move away and wait for her to follow, but none of those things happened; she just stared. Vicki suddenly realized that this wasn’t the usual gaze - this was the gaze that she had seen so many years before when she had revealed her own inexperience to her when she was Maggie and not Vicki. Vicki suddenly felt bare beneath the gaze, suddenly became hyper aware of the way her night gown had ridden nearly all the way up her one leg, and she quickly tugged it down, looking down ever so slightly as her face continued to flush.

She moved, then, but not away like Vicki was expecting but towards her, suddenly on top of her and her face was so close to Vicki’s, and even though if she tried she could see the bed post through her it felt like the only thing she could see at all was her. Vicki didn’t think she breathed, but there was something against her cheek, something that felt a bit like breath but it was cool, not warm; like ocean mist against her skin. Vicki’s own breath had caught in her throat and she just froze, not moving, not breathing.

Then she moved even closer and Vicki could feel the trace of lips on her own - not like a real person would feel, but it was there, shadowing against her skin - and a coolness against the skin where her neck met her shoulder, moving down, pushing away the fabric of her nightgown to reveal her shoulder and Vicki was shivering.

But, suddenly, the presence against her body removed itself, and she had pulled back, staring at Vicki with her eyes questioning and mouth parted ever-so-slightly and oh my god was this really happening?

Vicki remembered to breathe, and she sucked in a shaky gasp of air, chest rising and falling and even though she was cold against her skin she suddenly felt colder without her there, because she was igniting a warmth deep within her that she had never felt before. Vicki didn’t know what to do - didn’t even know what was going on - so she did the only thing that came to mind. “Help me,” she whispered, her voice small and trembling ever so slightly, eyes cast downward.

But she was pressing her hand up against her again - not a physical force but more of a insistence against her and bringing her chin up to stare at her again - and she was smiling. Vicki had never seen her smile before, and though this smile was small it was also dangerous. She didn’t have time to think about what this meant, however, because the shadow of a kiss was pressed against her again, not on her lips but against the shoulder that she had exposed, and all conscious thoughts fled her mind.

When Victoria Winters kissed Barnabas for the first time, it was her first time kissing a boy.

But that was the only thing it was first for.

**Author's Note:**

> please don't kick me out of fandom maybe? :D


End file.
